Cologne – pleasure or pain

I just shook the hand of a man who apparently used that same hand to apply cologne like Julianne Moore applies sunscreen. Now, I’m not upset with a guy trying to smell better than he normally would, I’m just not so fond of using a Brillo pad to scrub the smell that is causing me to lose consciousness. Please keep that to yourself.

I do feel the same for ladies that slather perfume on in some sort of attempt to attract…well, somebody. To me trying to get that much attention is as pointless as Microsoft’s packaging. (Love this video)

I do believe in moderation…at least in this area. Go light or go home! I shouldn’t be able to smell you when our cars pass. That’s just wrong.

Done right, is the woman (ugh, I guess I have to say man also) who walks by with a scent that doesn’t slap me in the face, and it happens to actually smell like something you’d want to breathe in all day. Like Sonoma when the scent of grapes just starts to fill the air. Here’s a lesson here for you over-cologners. If you smell like my older brother when he emptied half a bottle of Jovan Musk on himself before his first junior high dance, I’m probably not going to hang around and argue with you about how the word “irregardless” is not a real word.

If, however, you emanate the aroma of Martha’s cookies when I walk into Financial Peace Plaza each morning, now you have my attention—and my appreciation. I don’t mind stopping a moment while you share with me how emotionally attached the Bachelorette gets as she wades through her prey, who, after 15 minutes of conversation with her in a testosterone-filled room, fall helplessly in love with her.